Sinolto and the remaining guards stood frozen, their eyes locked on Miuson as the roaring flames around him slowly began to fade. The snow at his feet had melted into steaming puddles, and the scent of scorched air lingered thickly.

Sinolto coughed into a fist as he studied Miuson in disbelief. "Did he just use his Fire Affinity on purpose...!?" He'd seen Miuson spar, seen flashes of potential, but never like this. The heat had been raw and wild, as if Miuson had ripped the fire straight from his soul.

Clemens, standing behind Miuson, had a similar look of disbelief. He'd heard rumors about Miuson's affinity—whispers from the elders, commands from the trainers, vague comments from the chief—but seeing it manifest so violently was something else entirely. "So it's true…" Clemens muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing. "He really can use fire affinity…"

Miuson, meanwhile, doubled over, his chest heaving with gasping breaths, his lungs working in overdrive. His hair clung to his forehead and beads of sweat ran down his temples despite the freezing air. His hands trembled faintly as he stared at them — the faint orange glow still flickering beneath his fingertips.

Then, Sinolto caught movement—several figures rushing through the snow behind Miuson. He turned, relief flashing across his face as he recognized them: Domitius leading the charge, with Himon Koul close behind, Mumu trailing slightly, and finally, Chief Okun, his fur-lined cloak billowing with every heavy step.

"Sinolto!" Domitius called out, his voice cutting through the icy wind. "You good?!"

Sinolto straightened and forced a shaky grin, raising his arm and giving a firm thumbs-up. "Still breathing, Captain!" He shouted back before coughing into his fist again, harder this time.

Himon Koul skidded to a stop beside them, his sharp eyes darting from the scorched ground to the trembling boy and then to the monstrous silhouette looming over the mountain ridge. "The villagers and wounded soldiers are secured! Ryuu Jr., Gus, Liam, and Dama are tending to them! We don't have to worry about anyone else right now!"

Mumu came up beside him, his eyes wide as he tilted his head back to look at the Oni towering above them.

Koul's eyes set on Mumu for only a second before going back to the Oni. "It really looks like a monster, doesn't it, Mumu?" He said to the plush bear, gripping the hilt of his axe as if the act itself steadied his nerves.

Okun slowed as he reached Miuson, his heavy footsteps crunching in the slush. His expression softened slightly—not pity, but concern tempered with authority. He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, the weight of his presence enough to steady Miuson's trembling.

"You've got power." Okun said firmly, his voice calm but cutting through the tension. "But if you don't control your emotions, that power will take more than just your soulura."

Miuson looked up at him, his eyes flickering between exhaustion and frustration—black and orange. The chief's gaze stayed on him a moment longer before he added, in a quieter tone, "You've done enough for now. Breathe. The fight's not over yet."

Sinolto tried to join the group, but his world tilted and his breathing hitched. He fell to his knees, continuing to cough into his hand.

Seeing this, Clemens didn't wait for orders. He lunged forward, sliding under Sinolto's arm and bracing him like a kid helping a drunken elder. "I—I got you, sir!" He stammered, voice small and terrified as he rushed him out of harm's way.

Sinolto forced a grateful, crooked grin and patted Clemens on the shoulder. "Good lad..." he rasped, but the voice broke on a cough. He brought a blood-streaked sleeve to his mouth and spat once, hard. The river of red on his palm made his face go slack for a beat; he blinked, bewilderment pushing through the daze.

He had been slammed by the shockwave of the blast—he felt bruised and winded—but it shouldn't have left him bleeding. Not like this. Not this much. Why did his limbs feel so heavy, as if the cold had draped weights across his muscles?

"Take him to the others, in the chief's residence." Domitius said, patting both Sinolto and Clemens on the backs, the latter of which he grinned proudly at. "We'll hold the front line."

Both Clemens and Sinolto grinned in return, with Clemens nodding. "Yessir!"

Throughout all of this, the still reeling Oni played the event in her head over and over again as she stared at the gasping Miuson. How was such a feeble looking thing like him able to match her attack?

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

As Miuson's breathing steadied, Okun turned his attention to the Oni. He stepped forward from the gathered group, shoulders squared, and planted himself between them and the Oni. The wind screamed, whipping his cloak into a tirade. His face was a calm, immovable mask in the storm.

Everyone flinched as the Oni's monstrous head tilted, noticing him. For a heartbeat the two looked at each other—a measured, dangerous mutual sizing-up. The Oni's presence was a solid, unbearable pressure the men could taste on their tongues; even the previously brash Miuson sucked in a breath as if the atmosphere had thickened.

The Oni reacted as if affronted by Okun's challenge. She brought her massive wrists together with a calm anger, palms facing outward toward the chief and the ragged line of humans.

The air between those two palms collapsed inward in a whirling vortex; the wind condensed into glittering slivers of ice that spun and clenched into a single point. First a finger, then a log, then a monstrous spear of translucent ice.

With immense force, she finally launched the attack towards the group. The icicle, while a bit smaller than the last one, cut through the air with so much speed, the sound that accompanied it was both ear-grating as it was beautiful.

Domitius' pinched with alarm. Koul cursed low, and even Mumu showed signs of fear, knowing what kind of damage something that like could cause. Miuson's jaw simply tightened as he fought to stand up: if he could cancel out one attack, he could do it again, show the Oni they eren't just any village to mess with.

When it came to Okun, he just inhaled once, deep and measured. Snow sprayed from his boots as he sank his weight low and pushed his heel forward.

The ground answered like a living thing. A line of earth swelled up from the frozen soil between Okun and the falling icicle, towering up with a grinding, powerful sound—dirt tearing, roots creaking, a thunder of ground being moved like a hand slamming into the air. The wall unfurled in a solid arc, compact and raw, brown and steady.

For an instant, the icicle looked unstoppable: crystal perfect, a lance meant to punch straight through even steel.

Then—contact. The moment the icicle struck the wall, the deafening crack of ice splitting against stone echoed through the blizzard.

The point hit stone-faced earth and shattered in a spray of glitter and dust. Fragments of frozen shards ricocheted through the air like knives, scattering across the snow in a brilliant, deadly spray, stinging cheeks and causing Okun to turn his head away. A cloud of white fogged up the space for a blink, then was swept away by the Oni's resentful wind.

Silence snapped back with the fog. Shards tinkled onto the frozen ground. Men squinted through the mist.

Okun stood with his chest heaving, arm covering his face, soil still falling from the lip of the earth wall he'd raised. The barrier smoked faintly where the ice had exploded against it; a few pebble-sized chunks clung to the top like frost. He turned his head slowly to face the Oni, gaze prickling with both exhaustion and resolve.

He exhaled once more, then placed his other hand flat against the barrier. The earth beneath his palm pulsed with a deep ochre glow as his soulura coursed into it. The vibrations built like the rumble of distant thunder, and before anyone could blink, the energy surged forward in retaliation.

A massive earthen spike erupted from the other side of the wall, slicing through the mist and air like a cannon shot. It tore through the space between Okun and the Oni, its sharp, jagged tip aimed squarely at the creature's chest.

But the Oni only glared. With a guttural sound that was half snarl, half sigh, it swung its massive arm in a casual backhand. The spike shattered against its forearm like brittle glass, breaking apart into hundreds of tiny dust-like grains that were instantly swept away by the howling, freezing gale.

Okun's expression tightened. The Oni's dismissal was effortless. He scoffed under his breath, a wry exhale lost to the storm. "Of course..." he muttered, lowering his stance, knowing this was going to take a lot out of him.

He drew in another deep breath, the kind that seemed to settle the very air around him. His hands shifted fluidly—left open, right bent—forming a stance that exuded calm and precision, his body poised for the next exchange. The ground beneath his boots hummed softly in response, sensing his readiness.

The Oni mirrored his preparation with her own dreadful grace. She crossed her thick arms over her chest in an "X," the motion deliberate and heavy, before flinging them wide open in a violent burst. The very air split with a sharp crack.

Around the Oni, the moisture in the atmosphere froze instantly, forming glimmering points of crystalline light. In mere moments, dozens of icicles materialized out of thin air—each one razor-sharp, spinning slowly in the vortex of wind that encircled the monster. The sight was mesmerizing and terrifying all at once.

The world fell utterly silent for half a heartbeat. Even the snow seemed to hang in the air, suspended in anticipation.

Finally, both combatants moved at once.

Okun's palms struck the wall in rapid succession, his motions fluid and rhythmic like a martial kata honed by years of discipline. Each strike sent a shockwave through the earth, forcing jagged spikes to burst outward one after another in perfect sequence. It was a barrage of nature's wrath launched straight at the Oni.

The Oni, in response, clapped its hands together with thunderous force. The resulting shockwave shattered the stillness, and all the hovering icicles around it shot forward like arrows released from divine bows.

Earth and ice collided midair.

Each spike met its crystalline counterpart with explosive precision, shattering on contact and sending showers of dirt and frost spiraling outward. The sky above the battlefield glittered with the fallout.

For a moment, it looked almost beautiful—the chaos forming a strange, fleeting symmetry. But beneath that fleeting calm, both forces were only just beginning to test each other's strength.

-

Next: (Chapter 97) Okun vs. The Oni: Part 2

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